


Revelations

by Coffeebreakcreations



Series: Abstractionverse [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Atonement - Freeform, German National Team, Grief, Healing, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeebreakcreations/pseuds/Coffeebreakcreations
Summary: The year is 2013. Mats confronts Benni about his one sided feud that has been going on for three years. He ends up revealing so much more.
Relationships: Benedikt Höwedes/Mats Hummels
Series: Abstractionverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751947
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have this in my drafts over months now. I have hoarded so many wips of this universe that I need to start committing and finishing them. If some of the writing looked inconsistent that's because I've been dipping in and out of this wip for so long. Don't worry though, surely once I posted this the errors will start making themselves known. As they always do and I will be here editing.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy.

As soon as he stepped into the foggy beach, Benedikt Howedes immediately aimed into the heart of the island. He picked up pace, ignoring that he has a partner catching up behind him. Benni could fly right to the center of the anomaly if he wanted to but he wanted Mats Hummels to observe him. A part of a prolonged protest of him being stuck with Mats in this god forsaken island.

Benni is pretty confident he can handle this himself but Philip Lahm just had to tag Mats along. It is an insult to him. Sure he can work with others, but with Mats? He’d rather burn. 

It’s not like Mats is of any support to him anyway. What’s he going to do? Benni thought. His Hurricane is powerful enough to decimate a small battalion in one sweep. He is not even sure if Hummels’ Mist can hurt a fly.

“Hey!” Mats called behind. “Wait up”

Benni rolled his eyes. He collected wind around him. He tapped into the island’s atmosphere getting a vague feel of its entirety. There are no signs of rogue abstractors, not even one critter. The entire island is dead save for its dense flora. However, despite that he feels a corrupting presence inside, something sinister. It is as if Benni is being seduced to venture deep into the island.

Now that explains the empty fishing vessels scattered in the near vicinity.

“Howedes you idiot, can't you see the fog?” Mats shouts.

Benni takes a sudden halt. Knowing what he just scouted, the fog is the least of his concerns. He scoffed at Mats, calling him dim witted in his mind. Of course Mats would look at this something sinister and only see what is right in front of him. Is this Fips’ way of leveling down Benni? Sure he can be out of control sometimes but he did not have to force him to stoop so low.

There were a few more inaudible grunts until he turned and faced him. His brows furrowed deep, his eyes shot like bullets to Mats. The other was caught off guard, staring back at Benni with a gross concoction of shock and terror in his face. 

“Fine, get lost!” Mats yelled out. “But don’t come to me when you’re in trouble. I’ll fix the anomaly myself.”

Benni laughed. “As if!” He yelled back. “What is your abstraction again?” Benni walked towards Mats, shouting him down, his finger pointed at him. “You’re nothing but a liability.”

He stopped right in front of Mats, his finger pushed down to his chest.

“Don’t point your finger at me.” Mats growled. 

“Or what?” Benni challenged.

Mats swatted Benni’s arm away. “What the hell is your problem, man? Ever since we got into the German Order you’ve been nothing but a dick to me. I never did anything to you. I never even gave a fuck to you. Still, you keep shoving your problems on me.”

“You’re my problem. I can handle things on my own. I’m powerful enough, competent enough. I can control my abstraction. I don’t need you or Fips to look after me.”

“You? In control? My god, the delusion, Benedikt Howedes. Maybe Fips won't have a need to send someone to babysit you if you stop jeopardizing operations. You keep losing your mind on missions, putting the team and even the entire city in danger. I’m a liability? You’re a calamity waiting to happen.”

A calamity waiting to happen. So that’s what it really is. All of those smooth talking from Fips, but in the end they really feared him behind his back. Of course, Benni knew all of this already. He is not blind, nor dumb, he knows how destructive he can be. That’s why he preferred working alone so that if it comes to worst, at least he will be the only casualty.

He hated everything about it. All of his remorse boiled up to his chest. He hated himself. He hated Fips. He hated the German Order. But most of all. He hated that Mats knew this. He hated that Mats is stating all of this right in front of him. How dare he, he thinks. What gave him the right. He is nothing but a speck of dust that Benni can easily shred.

Benni looked at Mats with pure annihilation in his eyes. The loud breeze grew faint. The current stopped. The humid air turned cold. Benni lowered his head, still staring death through Mats, his hand curling into a fist. Sand swirled around them, growing faster at each passing second. Soon the water followed.

Benni's arms are shaking, his jaws locked, his teeth bare and grinding. He looked rabid in front of Mats but he stood against him still, not letting Benni get over his head. So Mats is challenging him, Benni thought. And for a moment a cold sensation ran through Benni, a sensation liberating him from senses, from reason. All of his desires drummed to his brain, his desire to show the German Order power, to show them disaster, to show them calamity.

The wind screamed around them, shredding through the sky. The tornado that surrounded both of them towered upwards. It kept growing. Benni willed it to reach the sky, to reach the stars, to reach the gods if that’s what it takes.

Yet through all this, Mats stood brave, looking at Benni in the eye. He stood there silently declaring that he will not be daunted by his display of power.

A big mistake, Benni thought.

“Go ahead,” Mats said in a low growl. “Prove me right, prove the German Order right. You want to become a monster? A disaster? A calamity? Go ahead. Be my fucking guest. Erase me Benedikt Howedes if you hate me so much.”

“But before all that,” Mats paused. “I demand to know what’s your problem with me. I deserve to know.”

“You have no right to demand anything on me.” Benni answered. “None.” Benni slowly stepped forward, each step made the ground shudder as if the earth itself feared him. “That’s why Fips asked me to tag you along because he knows I’m powerful enough to fill in whatever you lack. I am stronger than you, more powerful than you, more competent. You will never measure to me or Manu or Jerome or— ”

Mats punched Benni making him stagger backwards to the tornado. It subsequently dispersed, the displaced sand, water and all other debris rained down on them. The beach is completely ruined, the sand stripped bare into a crater.

Benni struggled in muddy ground as he was left weak by the surge of power. Exhaustion and fury blurred his vision. He stopped himself when he saw something next to him, as his eyes focused he realized it was Mats, offering to help him up. He looked at his arm, then up to Mats' face.

Benni laughed and gagged as mud dripped from his face into his mouth. Yet he extended his arm reaching to Mats. But before their palms touch, Benni looked at him once more with a devious look.

Benni snapped his fingers and a sphere of air burst out from him, sending Mats tumbling away. He guffawed, hysterical at their situation and coughed with mud, spit and blood.

Mats stood up. He wiped the mud off his body. He cracked his neck side by side and looked at Benni, the truly pitiful state that he’s in. He watched him in disdain as he charged his own abstraction.

“Oh, there he stands!” Benni taunts. “Come on Mats Hummels. Show me what you’re capable of.”

A deafening screech cut through Benni’s ear as his surroundings enveloped in a thick grey fog. All of his senses are completely clouded. It numbed his skin, muffled his hearing and blinded his vision.

Never did he realize that his Mist could ever inflict this kind of horror. The heavy clouds suffocated him, it cornered him into claustrophobia. It was a thief of his senses, a plunderer of his mobility. It was thick, invading, all encompassing with no hopes of escape.

“Show yourself,” Benni yelled. “That coward.” He growled between his gritted teeth.

“Save your strength.” Mats’ words echoed within the thick clouds like a twisted melody of his own voices. It is both loud and soft, broken and clear, a prayer and a command all layered within a cacophony that forced itself into Benni’s ears.

“Or go ahead, tire yourself, whatever suits you.”

Benni’s heart drummed faster. His head filled with desperation as he commanded wind by his side. It howled with a strength that could uproot trees. He roared as pain slashed through his arms as he conjured a much more devastating tornado than before.

“Stronger.” Benni concentrated every ounce of his power as the tornado grew. The wind around him screeched. Here he called for annihilation, conjured destruction, summoned calamity.

“Let’s see you catch this Hummels.” Benni said as he released the storm he conjured. The pinnacle of his power, the force of nature so feared that it inspired the name of his abstraction. A true hurricane.

The thick mist around him dispersed and in a moment he could see the ground he stood on again. He could see sunlight as it peeked through the clouds, its warmth caressing his face. But he watched in horror as the mist ate it all up once more. It crawled back, and along with it the darkness, suffocation, and claustrophobia.

Along with it came Mats.

His fingers felt numb as he lost the strength to keep himself up. He fell to his knees, his lungs desperate to hoard oxygen for his fast beating heart. His head was light and a ringing blared in his ears. The strain of overusing his abstraction finally took a toll on his body.

“Answer me,” Mats said, creeping behind the clouds. “Why all this anger, all this hatred. You’ve despised me for so long. I want to know why.”

“Whatever it is. It is none of your business.” Benni growls.

“It is my business! You forced it on me.” Mats snapped. “It became my business when you were outright sabotaging me during games. It became my business when you treated me like an enemy when we should be working together. It became my business when someone might get killed if we both fail a mission.”

Benni was paralized. His limbs disobeyed his command. The least he can do to resist is to block him from going through his thoughts. He cannot know. He must not know. 

He felt his Mist crawling to his body, coating every inch of his skin. His senses are completely suspended, he claws out the fog invading him, gags out the cloud that entombs him. He fights desperately to resist Mats. He must not know, he must not see. Mats must not find out that Benni— 

His memories rang all out once in a dreamlike cacophony.

The first was a memory of the moment that started it all. Small moments flashed through his mind. Glances, curious look outs and small peeks to entertain a seedling of a curiosity for a boy. 

“Mats Hummels” a voice said in a distant conversational tone.

“A product of Bayern Munich’s academy and a loanee to Borussia Dortmund,” another voice reported.

“Must be a talented kid,” a whisper said.

“Very,” another whisper agreed.

He remembered how everyone was always looking over Mats, anticipating what he brings next to the game, excited for what awaits his future. However Benni knew from the start that his curiosity wasn’t just about watching out for competition. He had a different appreciation for Mats, deeper than his style of play or his swagger in the field. 

He liked him for the simpler things like the charming smile in front of the camera and his quaint demeanor behind it. He liked him for the way his long hair bounces as he runs, how it always lands back beautifully and remains poised after a rough tackle. He liked him for the intensity of his face once he locked on a target, the grit and determination in performing well, and his youthful gloss during celebrations. He liked his answers, from shy awkward quips to snappy comments sometimes full of shade and wit.

“Mats Hummels? No way,” Manu said in a muffled voice, still munching on a mouthful of his lunch.

“Keep your voice down!” Benni exclaims in whisper as he pulls Manu’s face, making them both lean forward on the table. He looked around, trying to see if anyone had their ears on them. Once the coast seemed clear, he relaxed a little. “What? He’s cute.”

“But, he’s the enemy,” Manu said. He paused for a bit and swallowed. “You’re not supposed to fraternize with the enemy.”

Benni rolled his eyes, “Listen, I’m not fraternizing with the enemy you drama queen. I just like him.”

Benni’s face turned solemn as he looked down for a moment. “Plus,” he said. “I doubt that he even knows me. You’re more likely to get on with him than I am. You two are both hotshots of this country.”

“Of course he knows me, I happen to leave a lasting mark to those whose goals I deny,” Manu said in jest. Benni did not answer, he knows that Manu was just joking, but of course he’s right.

Germany, the whole world even, has their eyes on players of their calibre. Benni knows he’s just in the background of Schalke, barely noticeable in the field, invisible in their benches, compared to giants such as them. How could he ever measure up to them. How could he ever measure up to Mats.

“Hey, I’m just joking,” Manu said as he placed his hand on Benni’s shoulder. He looked up to him.

“I’m sure he knows you too. You are fierce competition and don’t you forget that.” Benni smiled and let out a soft chuckle. No matter how real and obvious he sees his sense of inferiority compared to the slither of hope that Manu offered, he would choose to hang on to that slither of hope.

“I will get better and then he will know me,” said a voice. It was Benni’s. A version of him that was much younger, much more hopeful, much more naive. It echoed on and on as the memory blurred to darkness.

The memory dispersed like smoke.

“HOWEDES!” a voice that boomed like thunder.

Benni found himself on the splayed on the cold muddy ground. It was a bad mistake, one that sent him tumbling backwards crippling their defense and allowing the other team to score a goal. It was just a training session for them but their coach's temper seemed to have hit its limit. They’ve been making grave mistakes, the entire squad being on edge due to the piling pressure and the streak of poor performance they’ve been having. They weren’t losing, sure, but the victories felt empty. It wasn’t doing their morale any good.

“Why don’t you wake up from your silly little dream and maybe be useful for once. I don’t know what’s up with you lately. You keep preaching about working hard but you never get better. In fact you’re getting worse.”

His heart started pounding faster, a pressure was building up collecting from all corners of his body to his very core.

“What’s the matter, boy? Don’t you think I do not notice?”

A coldness crept up to Benni’s head as he swiftly turned his attention to the direction of his coach. Notice what? He thought. What is he talking about?

“You’ve been out of your game. Are you even an athlete? Because you are more passive than a spectator in the stands. Maybe you’d be more useful if you actually study your opponents rather than fawning over Mats Hummels in the benches.”

Benni’s hand curled into a fist, squeezing mud and grass off it. His eyebrows turn sharp, his teeth grinding in fury.

“You need to forget your little man crush, boy. It has no place here. It has no place in this game. You want to be like Mats Hummels? Stop ogling him and maybe possess at least a small portion of his talent. ”

There were mixed reactions from his teammates around him. Some sympathetic small gasps, some insulting chiding chuckles. All of it Benni wanted to drown out.

He stood up and looked around with absolute murder in his eyes. The pressure in his chest, building, overflowing, bursting at the seams. He squeezed his fist so hard that his palms started to hurt, but he ignored the pain.

His breathing slowed as the entire picture circled him. All the surrounding chatter and laughter echoed. He saw Manu in the distance, about to take a step towards him. Benni’s mind went blank.A loud ringing replaced the rain splashing on mud and shoes squeezing the ground. He looked at Manu dead in the eye and slowly shook his head, warning him not to come closer. Manu stopped abruptly, glancing at him with utmost horror.

His arms shook and his legs planted itself to the ground as his knees froze solid. He heard nothing but his breathing and the loud beating of his heart. Then nothing.

Suddenly there was clarity and time stood still. All movements halted, as if the air suddenly had the consistency of honey. There, for the first time, he unleashed his abstraction. He released a sphere of air that ripped mud, water and grass away from him in the immediate vicinity. He sustained the sphere as it circled around repelling the heavy downpour of rain. One by one, Benni watched teammates' as they crawled backwards from him. He reveled in their terror. His coach in the distance, grabbing a metal pole, looked like he'd stared down directly at the eye of the storm.

In that moment, Benedikt Howedes vowed that he will not only be better than Mats Hummels, he will surpass him. Mats Hummels know his name and then …  
  


He will fear him.

From then on he repressed all of his affection towards Mats. Afterall, he was a weakness he needed to let go, a tumor to cut off, a cancer to eradicate. He trained both in sport and his abstraction. He garnered fear from his teammates as they became careful not to cross him. Benni turned strategic, methodological, and cold in his performances, unkind to his enemies and even more brutal to himself and his imperfection.

He looked at Mats with disdain, disgusted at how easy men like him get affection. Appalled by how easy praises line up for them, the seemingly gifted, the talented. He was outraged by how hard work and growth is easily looked past just because you did not get a good impression early on. He directed all that hatred to him, first and foremost at how easily he fawned over him.

Everything blacked out. Then in a snap, Benni regained all of his senses. He was able to feel his body back. No longer did he stand watching as a witness to his own memories. He must’ve resisted Mats’ abstraction. However, if that’s so, then why is his vision still blackened?

He flailed his hands around and he could find no contact of mud or sand. He kneeled and touched the surface he was standing on and found a smooth tile like texture. He wasn’t temporarily blinded, he seemed to be trapped and transported to a different place. Determined to find the walls and hopefully, an exit or at least a window to the outside world, Benni walked forward in a random direction.

He walked on and on for what seemed like minutes. Still, there seemed to be no end to this room. Thinking that this must be a long corridor, he changed direction many times but found his efforts futile.

Then he found a faint red glow from behind him, accompanied by a strong presence that made his hair stand. But many missions inside ancient catacombs taught him that nothing good comes from a faint red glow behind you. So he hastened his pace as he tried to distance himself from the presence behind him. His heart started pounding on his chest, drumming louder and louder until he realized that it wasn’t his heart beat, but steps from someone charging towards him.

He felt a sharp pain from behind as he crashed face first from the ground. A hand grabbed his side and turned Benni violently and finally he met the presence that chased after him.

“Me?” he said, horrified.

It was another him. With ghoulish chalk like skin, hollowed cheekbones, and a freezing touch. The faint red glow coming from its cloudy marble like eyes. It jumped on Benni landing on his chest with a loud thud, pinning him on the ground. Benni cannot even inch out a resistance, its body is like hard concrete on him. It looked at him with a mad devilish grin. Finally it slammed its hand on Benni’s throat as it leaned down to him, inching towards his face. Benni’s vision was slowly drowned by its red eyes as a chorus of voices echoed in his ear like an angry mob closing in on him.

"Must be a talented kid."

"But he's the enemy"

“Mats Hummels? No way"

He heard glass cracking as the fake him pushed its thumb depper in his throat, its hand shaking with anger.

"You are fierce competition and don’t you forget that.”

"I will get better"

He heard the crack growing as he whistled out pathetic amounts of air, desperate to breathe.

“HOWEDES!”

"No place"

"Wake up!"

He heard shards of glass falling on the ground as he tasted metal in his tongue.

"Out of your game"

"You want to be like Mats Hummels?"

"A small portion of his talent."

Then it stopped. 

As he lay there stunned, the fake him having disappeared to thin air. He took a painful, heavy, hoarse breath choking on the mixture of blood and saliva in his throat. One final whisper broke out. Silence entailed.

“I just like him” a lone voice said, fading into echoes of nothing.

The floor behind him shattered into a million pieces of shimmering black crystals. Benni felt a violent tug behind him as an invisible force dragged him down to a deep abyss. He let out a bone shattering wail as he struggled and clawed into air, flailing his arms around in hopes of holding onto something. He fell deeper into the darkness as the pulling became even stronger making Benni unable to scream. The force is slowly breaking his spine, folding his body.

“Manu! Mats! Fips! Help me!” Benni called out. He watched the void as his voice echoed in the darkness. None of them came to rescue him, not one arm to reach for him, not one hand to pull him up.

He crashed on hard ground, kicking the air out of his lungs. Stunned, still, he tried to push himself up, his hand sliding on the smooth glasslike floor. He cannot get a grip, no matter how he tried to claw the floor with his fingers, no matter how deep he kicked the floor with the rubber in his boots.

Then he was able to grab sand. 

His arms slid on rough grains as the darkness slowly faded from view, bringing back the grey foggy sky overlooking them. He’s now back on the island, back in reality, out of the grasp of Hummel’s abstraction.

The first thing that his body did was gasp for air, his mouth was wide open, hoarding breaths into his lungs. It felt like his chest had been petrified, that it forgot to breathe, like he was born again into open air.

He observed the fog receding to a single direction. He followed it and set his eyes on Mats. He found him on all fours, also gasping for air. His eyes te

“I see,” Mats whispered to himself. It must’ve made sense to him.

Rage boiled inside Benni. He slammed his arms on the ground and a small tornado spiraled him upward. As the tornado dispersed with Benni still mid air, he forcefully swung his arms to his side as a stream of air collected around him and turned into a sphere, levitating him.

Mats, now up, puts his arms up to his head shielding him from the strikes coming from Benni. “How dare you!” Benni roars as he pushes out an attack out of the sphere.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to!” Mats yelled out but it was too late. This is now the Benni that vowed that he will be feared.

Mats braced himself for a world of hurt as the drill made of wind travels ripped towards him. To his surprise, what hit him is nothing more than a whiff of air. He looked up to Benni and saw him slowly wither, the sphere of air flickering on and off, dispersing and then recollecting. Finally Benni coughed violently on his hands. Blood. The sphere of air disappeared completely as Benni fell to the ground.

Mats rushed to his side, extremely worried. Benni’s breathing becomes laboured, almost heaving in air. His entire body is completely cold and numb. “Mats.” Benni whispers, his words slurring. He can hear Mats yelling his name in panic, asking Benni to stay with him as Benni’s vision blacks out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fips puts Benni under his Phantasm and confronts him inside his dream world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two. Months. Good lord. This chapter has been under the series of polishing, rewrites, additions, more polishing and it was all too grueling that I gave myself a self indulgent project as a treat before returning here and finally grinding it to completion.
> 
> And it was all worth it.
> 
> I'm pretty proud of this chapter. I think all the improvements all the style discoveries I went through this past few months culminated in here and it may not be the best, still, but its my best so far. And that's what matters.
> 
> [XIMENA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ximena13/pseuds/Ximena13). Darling. We've made it. Thank you for brainstorming a critical part of this chapter with me. I was severely stuck on that one but you really helped me on finding direction with it. Your latest chapters in Rainy Cities really helped me. I studied how you make friendship dynamics. What an influencer move. Also yes, reader, if you are a Kunessi enthusiast, feel free to check her work. But I'm sure since she's more influential than I am I feel like I have no need to plug her work. But yeah.
> 
> Special thanks to [colorsofmyseason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorsofmyseason/pseuds/colorsofmyseason) for being ever so patient with this chapter update. I started hyping her mid June and good LORD was she so patient that I stopped giving her progress update that I am unable to give her a solid time frame. Thank you for indulging my ramblings in my abstractionverse. And readers, if you are interested for more superpower AU why not visit her works as well. It's so good I swear :)
> 
> Anyway, onto the chapter :)

Benni woke up to gentle knocking on wood. As his vision cleared, he expected to see the chalk white walls, the sterile lighting of the Order’s health department but instead found himself sitting in a rocking chair inside a bamboo hut. He took himself off from the chair, but it’s more like peeling himself out of it as the woven bamboo strands had imprinted its pattern on his skin. He must’ve slept on it for a long time.

There’s the knocking again, but Benni was too occupied with the atmosphere of the hut. The air is fresh. It is almost therapy to his lungs, making his body younger at every breath. The hut was small, but was humble enough to contain a kitchen, a living room and a bedroom all in the same space divided by furniture and curtains.

The knocking persisted. However Benni was lost in making a slow waltz through the hut, taking in a silly satisfaction in the way the bamboo flooring creaked in his steps. In fact, most cheap apartments would probably be bigger than this but somehow this is infinitely more homely than the dwellings you find in the city. The city can either be polluted or sterile but here it is orderly in a way that it nourishes the dweller; it can be either rowdy or still but here it is alive in a way that each living thing coexists instead of clashing; it can be either be taxing or boring but here it is harmonious, free of constraint, free of pressure. It is a paradise, a dream come true.

A dream. The thought echoed within Benni, bouncing around every corner of his head until the knocking demanded itself be attended to. Broken from the trance, Benni rushed to the door and flipped it open.

“Fips!” Benni exclaimed as he almost bulldozed the man to a tight embrace. Fortunately for Fips it did not last too long to be a torture as Benni put him down, already hypnotized by what he is seeing.

The hut stood on a hill shaded by a giant acacia tree. The canopy allowed a few dots of light to sprinkle around the place. The ground is paved with pebbles bordered by cleanly arranged rocks to paths that branched out to gardens full of luscious produce. In the distance are a vast field of wheat, its golden grains glistening to the sun. The grassy pathways between each plot are intensely green, the blades of grass swaying along in a gentle samba with the cool breeze. Finally completing the view are mountains covered with thick forests, the summit shaded with fluffy cotton like clouds crawling along the mountaintop up to the bright blue sky.

“Benni, Benni!” Fips said, snapping his fingers at him. Apparently Benni had been scanning his surroundings with utmost awe. His eyes completely peeled and his mouth ajar. Benni’s trance washed off as he focused his attention on Fips.

“I would’ve asked if I could enter but it seems to be that you’d rather be outside. Shall we?” Fips said, offering to lead Benni.

They walked slowly towards a small bench beneath the shade of the acacia tree. Benni just looks around with childlike wonder. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

  
“Where am I?” Benni immediately asked. There are plenty of assumptions that Benni made as to why he isn’t confined in the compound. A few were a safe house, a forced isolation. Perhaps the Order saw the mess he made and finally had the good sense to isolate him from society until he learns to control himself.

“Inside your mind.”

“I’m not sure about that. As far as I know my mind is a carnival of horrors.”

“All of our minds are. You’re under my Phantasm, blacked out in a recovery room and your core is subdued at the moment but your mind still put up quite a fight in my early visits.”

“Early visits?”

  
Soon enough as if on cue Benni heard a hollow howling of wind accompanied by distant fire crackling and a structure falling unto itself. Benni looked behind, and saw the source far beyond the hut. He saw multiple mirror iterations of the place, all separated by a vast void cut between each. It appeared to be dark and stormy. Its atmosphere was grey as the ground was illuminated by the fire ravaging the burnt gardens. Fips grabbed Benni’s chin and turned him away from the sight. The apocalyptic sounds faded as the ambiance returned to silence.

“What was that?”  
“A few failed attempts of me trying to get you out. But, whenever he speaks to you, you seem to respond better in my visits.”  
“Who?” Benni immediately asked, curious as to who is this man that makes his mind respond better.

“Mats.” He answers in a factly tone. “Strangely enough, given the incident report I shredded seemed to suggest the opposite, somehow you responded to his voice. What do you remember since you two fought?”

He looked dead straight into the distance as the sound of fires ravaging filled his eardrums. Fips squeezed his forearms, pulling him back, making the sound fade away. Benni turned to him instead and saw a man patiently waiting for his response but is silently communicating that he’s here for him. A look that he’s never seen for a very long time.

Immediately, Benni broke down.

“I almost killed him.” Benni said slowly, looking at himself with disgust. Each word had a gravity that would pull down planets. “I almost killed someone, just because I hated myself so much. Because I was scared of my own emotions. I was scared of attachments. I was scared of disappointments. I was scared of—” Benni paused.

When Manu left them for Bayern Munich it was as if all that promise of taking Schalke to soaring heights was nothing. As if Manu tossed it to the ground, set it aflame and left its ashes for Benni to see. It made him question all the years they spent building that dream. He was a leader, an inspiration. And he abandoned Benni and soon enough, others followed suit leaving him to carry the dream alone.

So he closed himself. If he was to carry the dream all alone then so be it. He must be strong, he must be formidable. He must become a force to be reckoned with. It’s not enough that Mats would fear him, but those that abandoned him should as well. Sometimes he even feared himself over losing control of his abstraction.

Despite that fear, power is too delicious for Benni. He just cannot turn away from it. Power that burned through his throat, exquisite and addicting. Specially the same kind of power that people like Mats and Manu can easily obtain as if it was entitled to them, offered to them by divine providence. Like it is like their birthright, their destiny. 

After all it's always easier for him to believe that he is their equal if he can summon a storm to lift him to the same vantage point.

“Manu. After what happened to us, I never wanted to feel that kind of pain again.”

Fips sighed. Benni looked at him, waiting for his next move, anticipating what words will flow out of his mouth. Fips had his eyes closed, his brows furrowed deep, his mouth clamped shut, his jaw solid and tense. Benni could not figure out if Fips was going to yell obscenities at him or shed a tear. He could only imagine the fierce internal debates happening inside the captain’s mind.

As he waited, as he looked at the strain he was giving his captain he wished that he could turn back time. He wished that he could just simply comply with the mission. He wished that he could just quit the German Order when he thought of it. He wished that he hadn’t accepted the call for a first team operative.

But all of it is here. The damage is long done. There is nothing more that Benni can do to take it back.

And the slight sound that escaped off Fips made Benni turn to him, his heart dropping in the process. Here goes, he braced himself.

“Benni,” Fips said firmly. Benni almost forgot how to breathe. The way that Fips called him washed over his body and left him cold, shivering. It had a profound effect, like a father reprimanding his son with the faith that he will do better. It was punitive and firm but somehow kind and understanding. Benni was struggling to hold back tears.

“I let you all down, didn’t I?”

Benni swallowed. “To be fair, we weren’t making your job any easier.”

“But still, I should’ve done better. I should’ve listened more, looked further. Instead I let all of it fall apart. I tried to make us more than soldiers, more than a faceless battalion. We started as a family. We were ’ride or die’. But look at us now.”

Benni can only wallow in guilt as his captain lamented his failures. He looked back at himself, back at the beach with Mats. Back in that state of mind, he would’ve reveled in Fips saying this to him but now all he wanted to comfort his captain, to tell him he’s doing a good job. He really is doing Germany a service by protecting the country. Although that would not be a lie, but it also would be nothing more than feel good flowery words. 

  
Because the team really is in a crisis, no matter which angle you look at it. The frequency of anomalies are growing. There are more problems appearing left and right. Fips has to deal with this alone now that Miro broke off to another division, entirely separate from him. They were a combo in the beginning but now the captain has to carry all of them by himself.  
  


“Do you remember when I first became captain?”

Benni can’t help but give out a small chuckle. “It was a scandal,” he said. Michael Ballack and some that were loyal to him weren’t too happy about the leadership change. They insisted that he was too young, unworthy to lead the squad. Some were pitching for Miro to lead but unbeknownst to them, Miro was onboard with Fips on the driver's seat as well. 

Benni grinned at himself, nostalgic almost beaming with pride after proving the doubters wrong.

“But it worked out well in the end, right? You showed promise and soon enough you were deemed worthy to lead the Order too.”

He wasn’t in the squad that played in South Africa but he did get the summon as a first team operative in the German Order. He was there when Fips was officially inaugurated as captain. Fips thought he knew what beat in the hearts of the new generation. Benni, along with Manu believed in him and poured their devotion to their new captain.

They all basked in the fair weather that day, looking forward to the new age, for the days to come. The memory is nostalgic, that’s for sure, looking back at it in that context makes their current situation all the more grim.

“We really thought we already knew what’s ahead of us, didn’t we?” Benni said. When Miro personally surveyed him, all Benni could feel was pride. He just had the honor of being sought for by the German Order. He was more than willing to sign up for it. It was the chance of lifetime, an opportunity to serve something bigger than himself, bigger than football.

  
At that time all that mattered is the fact that Benni can command the winds and Manu can summon crystals from light. The fact that they were signing themselves up for a life of servitude never really occurred to them.

“It’s been what? Three years? It felt like a lifetime ago. We’ve grown so much over such a short time.” Benni said, followed by a dry chuckle.

“Growth,” Fips chuckled. “We were forced,” He refuted. “ I forced you all to adapt. Just like how I was forced to adapt under Ballack’s leadership. When I was handed over the captainship, I thought I could do better, to fill in the gaps that Ballack glossed over during his time. I ended up repeating his mistakes.”

“As much as I want to assure you that we are family, that we are more than soldiers. I think, coming from me that will be nothing more than excuses and flowery words. I failed you, whether you were being difficult or not. And now each of those failures are cascading to the whole team.”

“But, as a captain. I also need to look for the safety of the Order together with your safety as well. I have to lay you low for now. I know you won’t like it but—”

“I understand,” Benni said. “Whenever I get reprimanded for my actions, it feels like you guys were pulling me down. But now I understand.”

Deep inside Benni there’s still that blaze of anger, the lust for power. A desire to lash out. Somehow a part of him feels like this is all a sham, that this is Fips’ Phantasm doing the work. There is a voice within him, depraved and putrid, that keeps reminding him that this is going to be all for naught. That the very moment he wakes up from this dream, he will be back into his old self again, bitter, enraged, resentful. Hungry to prove everyone wrong, to shut the naysayers off.

And he has all the reason to do that. They’ve backed him up to a corner, stuck a watchful gaze to his every action. It didn’t matter if he behaved for years on, one mistake and it will come crashing down.

  
  
But also, he knows it’s time to ask himself whether there might be actually something he’s doing wrong. Afterall he’s always waited for that moment. That one quiet day where he can look up and reflect on himself. 

He knows what others want, and that is to prove their prejudices against him. That he will be nothing but a bitter man, that he will live and die as a bitter man. But the thing is, he has never really asked himself about what he really wants. Maybe a part of him begged for him to be better, not for others, not for Manu, not for Mats, but for himself.

  
“I’ve always asked myself what made Manu different from me. What made him better, more loved, more sought after.”

He was all too occupied with material things such as football talent and their abstractions’ prowess and consequently turned a blind eye on the one obvious difference.

  
“I thought getting better at football and with my abstraction could level me with him but it turns out I was missing something crucial. He’s had a direction, I didn’t.”

Benni tried pursuing anger. That didn’t work. And now Fips is right here beside him, offering him hope in a silver platter. Maybe this time, if he chose hope, it would work out in the end.  
  


“So maybe a suspension won’t be bad afterall, huh. Perhaps I could find a better output for my troubles than lashing out.”

“I am not suspending—”

  
“I know. But still, I want to voluntarily discharge myself. For now at least. You find someone better, more effective to fill in for me.”

“There is no one out there that could ever fill the void you’ll leave behind.”

Benni chuckled, “Then at least, find someone that won't wreck the team.”

Perhaps this time, if he could choose hope over despair, then maybe he will achieve growth. That he will not just adapt, this time he would truly live. Maybe this way if he could show Fips that if him, being his most difficult case, can change then he can truly implement the vision he wanted for the German Order. The dream that they all pledged to that day, three years ago, could become reality.

It’s a long shot, Benni knows. A shot to the dark even. But what else is there to do?

“Fips this time I would—”

Benni was distracted with a blast of breeze whizzing past him. He held his arms up shielding his face. It was chilling enough that it ran like static from his arms to his entire body. Leaves rustled, puddles of water spilled over. When it died down, Benni could no longer feel a warm presence beside him. He looked around.

Fips was gone.

He breathed hoarsely, finding himself on the verge of tears with the sudden loneliness that swept through him. He panicked, scrambling over to stand up. He turned, twisted his neck, stood on tip toes desperately trying to spot his captain. But he was gone. It was as if he was never there in the first place.

Benni called on Fips, shouting his name, begging for him to come back. Yelling in between sobs. His eyes red, aching from the friction of his backhand rubbing over the tears that trickled down his face.

“It’s happening again. Oh God. Not again.”

Warmth started to evaporate from his body and soon enough the hill, the fields, the mountains were enveloped in darkness cast by a thick imposing storm. Thunder hailed from the heavens striking the earth with force that its booms weren't just heard by Benni, he felt it in a visceral way.

Wind whooshed all over the place, ominous and haunting. It picked up speed, shredding the golden fields and leaving the dirt dry and barren. Fields of grass flattened and turned to ash, bushes and trees left withered.

The chaos in his mind inched further in, leaving Benni mortified at the sight. His arms sprawled in his chest as a desperate attempt to comfort itself. His legs trembling, like a column caving in on the weight of the entire structure. And Benni did cave in, faced with vexing horror marching towards him.

He got on all fours, his fists banging on the gravel. Now in an open rebellion with his mind, demanding it to stop. But the rampart marching of incoming doom does not stop. He looked forward, his jaw trembling at the sight.

Whimpering in fear, he looked away and as his eyes distracted on the calamity before him, he spotted something curious beside him.

His eyes landed on a lone flower among the gravel. It was purple and bulbous, the petals reminded him of fluttering butterflies. It stood with resilience, determined to keep on living till the very end. Despite the impending doom, despite the chaos taking over it still provided life and color on a world turning barren and gray.

It felt like instinct. With shambling steps he crawled over and embraced it. His back arched upwards careful not to disturb the flower. He will save it. How could he let something so beautiful, so resilient, so innocent to destroy. Even if it is futile, he will still try.

Even if the soil turns stale, even if he had to water it with his own tears. It will live.

So he closed his eyes. Primed his body for all the debris, all the pain that the wind will hurl at him. Desperately put up a veneer of strength among the sobs and the mantric begging. The storm closed in. The ground shook. Air froze. Howling blared. Thunder roared. 

Benni’s eyes remained shut. His face turned humid from the frantic breathing. 

Nothing happened. Perhaps he’d turn deaf. Perhaps his skin numbened and froze. Perhaps this is his mind shutting down. Perhaps he’s dead.

It was neither of those things. 

It started from the gentle rustling of leaves. Followed by the birds chirping their songs, and flapping their wings hopping from one branch to another, each step is a subtle crunch from wood. A trickle of water echoed from a deep well. A shallow stream rippled on rocks.

And then there was warmth. Soft, welcoming warmth caressing Benni. A gentle breeze running past his back.

Benni’s breathing slowed. He rolled over, opened his eyes and had to put up his arms to shield it from a bright glare. The sun. It’s back. As much as he questioned its reality. As much as he grew slightly suspicious of this possible trickery. At the same time a part of him was begging himself not to question it and just enjoy it.

Will it last long? That’s something Benni will find out eventually but for now, the least he can do is make the most of it.

He turned to the flower. It remained the same. Benni breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that. He greeted as if it was a person almost hoping that it would answer back.

“Hey, we made it.” Benni whispered.

A crooked grin swiped over his mouth. He chuckled. What has gotten to him. Expecting a conversation with a flower. He observed the soil around it and found it pretty dry. With an urgency he sprang up and scrambled towards the nearest source of water.

He cupped his hands and used it as a ladle almost tip toeing back to the spot careful not to spill any. He gently poured some of it over the soil, careful again, this time to not flood over where the flower was planted.

He stood up, proud of himself and this little achievement. It isn’t much. But it’s something and that’s enough.

Benni returned to the bench.

"Come on Fips, any moment now."

His fingers were tapping on wood. His legs hopping up and down. He'd been waiting for so long his posture had slid off. Instead of fixing himself for another round of waiting he stood up.

With a deep sigh he conceded the fact that Fips may not be able to come back.

What now? There’s something about being trapped in his own mind that seemed funny to Benni.

He walked over the garden. Lush green leaves brushing over his fingertips. It was small but a diverse selection of fruit bearing plants. A tent of vines bearing grapes, melons and strawberries. Rows of small bushes with lemons, currants, raspberries. The small garden leads to a quaint arrangement of apples, bananas, and avocado trees.

Benni picked an apple. It was almost cartoonishly plump and shiny almost as if it wasn’t real. For a moment he wondered whether it was even edible. Who knows if it was poison. He doesn’t. He almost experienced armageddon a while ago so if this place had any more tricks in its sleeves, it remains a mystery.

He scrutinized the apple and ran his fingers over its surface. He almost expected it to unravel, reveal a mouth with jagged teeth and bite his hand off.

He laughed. A loud, hefty, heaving belly laugh. He’s holding an apple. It’s not even a real apple. He’s in a garden, in a dreamworld in his mind hosted by Fips’ Phantasm. None of this is real, none of this will translate to his unconscious body in the real world.

Benni took a bite and almost immediately his eyes flung open shocked from the cacophony of sweetness that graced his tongue.

He took off his shirt, tied the collar end of it and used it as a sack for fruits. It ended up looking like an explosion of colors, a delight for the eyes with a scent so fresh and savory it makes his nose tingle at every breath. Despite picking a generous serving from each tree, bush and vine the garden remained as luscious as ever. As if the fruits grew right away.

He dragged the rocking chair from the bamboo hut out under a big shade in the acacia tree. Folded out the shirt full of fruits and started feasting on them. Indulging himself, with each bite tasting zestier than the last one.

He laid back, feeling safe and satisfied. For the first time after a very long time, Benni slept soundly.

Never had he ever woke up feeling utterly rejuvenated. Not one aching muscle, not one pulled joint. Everything felt good that Benni could almost feel like he’s levitating in his steps. The first thing he did was to water the purple flower from yesterday. Carefully cupping a small puddle of water and sprinkling it gently on the dry soil. 

He ran his fingers over its petals, with a touch so delicate he could be hired as surgeon on spot. He petted it, and gave it a jolly good morning greeting.

He stood up, a small grin over himself, proud of this small gesture and immediately scurried off to the bamboo hut.

The small creak that the bamboo flooring felt satisfying for Benni as he scrambled around the hut. What’s he looking for? Anything useful and fascinating enough for a hike up the mountains. At the end what he got was a woven basket with a sling, a few smaller woven baskets, and two cut bamboo with its other end carved to function as a water jug.

With no time to waste he stuffed the fruits inside the small baskets. It didn’t even occur to Benni that all of it did not show signs of aging, it was still as ripe as when he picked them. He filled the bamboo jugs with water, put on a straw hat and went on his merry way. 

The sky was blue. The sun was not too hot and the breeze not too cold either. It's perfect weather to take a stroll along the pathways that divide the rice fields.

Now that he thought about it, there’s really no particular reason why he wanted to go hiking in the first place. He just woke up, had a great morning and in an impulse decided he wanted to explore. It felt odd living without a care in the world. He didn’t even pack up properly for the journey. Benni just stuffed food and water in his basket.

He doesn’t get tired on the way up, or rather, he’s been deeply in bliss that he doesn’t feel it. Each air he breathes is a panacea to the body, and each body of water he crosses feels like a dip to the fountain of youth.

In fact, each rock he grabs on, each slip, each fall makes him feel even stronger. It’s a paradox alright but he’s not complaining.

He’s passed through many incredible sights by now. 

Groves of trees that don't make sense geographically. Trees that would wither from the lack of moisture coexist with trees that would drown from the surplus of it. Patches of dirt of all kinds scattered randomly. Coarse sand, rough gravel, loamy soil, swampy mud all in the same mix.

One odd quirk that amused Benni was he always seemed to find pathways whenever he looked for them. A narrow rock bridge connected over a deep chasm. A calm spot over raging rapids. A fallen trunk that is sturdy enough to balance himself as he tiptoed on the other side of a cliff. It’s perfectly blended within the surroundings, nothing forced, nothing man made at all. It was a wish fulfilment from providence leading him somewhere.

To where? Benni is yet to find out. But somehow each convenient passage, he is pretty sure should not exist, feels like a clue. Each tailored route invites him further in.

The sensation grew stronger. Manifesting into his own intuition, from rumor-like information, to borrowed accounts, to second hand knowledge down to his very instinct. Each tree that he passed by, each specific arrangement of rocks, each river was familiar to him.

And then it was murmurs, faint and subtle. Curious and inquisitive. It wasn’t intrusive like insanity but it was gentle, fleeting like lingering thoughts and faded memories.

It was keeping him company. It was left gasping when he ran, softly laughing along as he raced through the sunlight appearing like pin pricks between the dense canopy of trees. It gossipped and giggled as he sat down and helped himself with a serving of cool water and the ever supple fruits.

Soon enough Benni found himself dancing, prancing as he went along his journey. Laughing with a childish grin on his mouth, his eyes gleaming with delight. His cheeks high up, plush and pink. Benni twirled, and twirled until he fell upon a bed of soft grass.

And that’s when his ears focused on something rampaging in the distance. His curiosity piqued, he went over to investigate. By now the whispers had stopped, but he knows he’s not alone. It’s as if someone awaits him out of the woods. So he raced out of it, pushed the limits of his legs and ran faster than he had run in his entire life.

A tear ran down Benni’s face as his eyes beheld the most magnificent place he had ever seen.

The clearing unraveled to an open pool of shimmering blue green water. The ground was covered in mist coming from the tall waterfalls that were the source of the rampage that Benni could hear from far away. A faint rainbow pierced through the thin cloud reaching high up. The flora was greener and even more lush than everything he went past.

He knew that there’s a reason why he felt inclined to push deeper. He knew that there’s something waiting for him through the long hike. A place where the paths pointed him, where the whispers guided him through. A true paradise to where his instincts led him.

And he’s here, finally.

Already in trance, Benni put down his basket and walked into the pool. The water was cold, but he was quick to adjust. He descended deeper, his feet sinking into the mixture of rock, sand and gravel below. His hands carefully paddling through the slow current. Benni ducked his head into the water.

And again, there were voices.

Benni stood up in shock. Not whispers, not faint laughter but voices. Familiar and clear. Can it be? Benni took a deep breath and dived once more.

  
“How did it go? Did you manage to get to Benni?”

“I did, it was stable, we were able to have a conversation but then it got cut off and I couldn’t tune in back. His mind is blocking me off again.”

“How is it? His mind, is he still?”

“You need not worry. It’s nothing like the last few iterations. This time, he’s at peace.”

That was Mats, Fips and Manu. When Benni surfaced, his tears rivaled the water in keeping his face wet. He had his hands cupped over his mouth, sobbing through it.

“Guys,” he whimpered. “I’m here.”

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t worry I’m here. I’m fine.”

He dived again.

“Howedes, I’m sorry.” It was Mats, there was struggle in his voice. It was hoarse and rough as if he had been doing his own fair share of crying. “I know I can be annoying, obnoxious even. But still I wanted to understand. Because for some stupid reason, a part of me doesn’t want to quit on you. It hurts me to see you in pain and now it hurts even more to know that I’m the reason why.” His words faltered as his voice cracked.

“Benni all I want is to be— when you wake up I will—” Mats' voice started breaking. Benni surfaced, took a big gulp and dived back in. Mats is nothing more than distorted static at this point. Benni started waddling desperately, begging for his voice to come back, repeatedly crying out to him, calling out his name.

But like the river he swims on, his prayers washed down the stream.

Back to square one. All alone again. This time for good. Benni remained floating, his body sprawled on the pool of water. His ears half submerged, still hoping for a slither of a familiar voice to whisper at him. He waited for so long he managed to learn how to tune out the sound of water rapidly crashing onto rocks.

Yet not one voice, not one whisper, not one faint murmur.

Defeated, he dragged himself back to where he laid down his basket. Wet, dripping, slogging along rocks and gravel. He sat down, and curled himself, his head leaning onto his fist.

Victory, right? It should be. This is what he wanted all along. His stupid little project of injecting so much venom into Mats. Every contact, poisonous as possible. Mats feared him. Mission success? Not really. He thought he’d be happier.

This feud he’s been trying to pour gasoline on. All this effort, all this energy invested. It all means nothing. Maybe it has always been for nothing. That this has been one long messy mixture of a tunnel vision, fever dream and an obsession.

Yesterday it was so easy to declare that he’d want to choose hope. It was easy to imagine opening a new chapter in his life. He never really thought of the possibility that at some point along the way he’d have to face the consequences of his actions wholesale. To consider that he had been wrong in a variety of things.

He picked up the basket and started the journey back.

Now it dawned on him, slowly, surely and heavily. The gravity of his sin weighed down on his shoulders and pulled his heart, sinking it into the depths of his own depravity. He expected an endgame. A pay off for all his actions. Some sort of a sick satisfaction of seeing Mats crumble.

After that? Benni didn’t really plan for it. He thought that he’d finally be happy after seeing himself above Mats, above Manu. He never really imagined his future detached from his obsession. It’s always about them.

Better himself. For what? To show Mats up, to make Manu regret leaving him. Train his abstraction. For what? To overpower Mats, to snuff out the light from Manu. To imagine him being better, getting stronger for the sake of what he can do for himself was a thought that never even crossed his mind.

What does he want to do with himself? What does he really want? What direction will he take now?

It was just those three questions, banging around the walls of his head. Echoing, ringing, demanding an answer from Benni. It lingered in his thoughts and detached him from the task in front of him. The next thing he knew he already stepped out from the foot of the mountain and into the long pathways in the rice fields.

He wanted to scream but his throat would betray him. He wanted to cry but his eyes would deny him. He felt so hollow, so empty, so cold inside. He wanted to crumble under his own weight. Let the earth catch him, nurse him back to health. It all felt so heavy. His sin, his anger, his rage. He doesn’t want this anymore. He wanted to live.

“Let me live, please,” he begged but simply begging for it is not enough.

And then there was rain.

He held his head up. A blank expression painted on it. He dragged every muscle in his arm to reach up. His legs, already trembling, stood on tiptoes and tried to get himself to reach higher. He pushed his finger as high as he could get.

Rain clouds gathered above him and poured. Benni welcomed the rain. If he would not cry, then maybe the heavens can cry for him. He let the water trickle down the contours of his face. Down to his shoulders, to his arms, to the ground.

And finally, he cried.

He let it wash away his sorrows. He welcomed its cold embrace to diffuse the roaring flame in his heart. It sizzled on the embers of his rage, his lust for revenge. Slowly, the fire fizzed out. He let the rain carry out his tears for him. Let it wash down the drain, let it join the stream that waters and nourishes the field. And maybe he can learn how to do the same for himself.

He took a deep breath, and heaved out a sigh. Not of relief, not of freedom but simply a sigh as it is. A start.

Benni did not know how much time had passed since that day. A week? A month? A year? It doesn’t matter. He tried counting it but ended up swiftly losing count.

Isolation inside his mind wasn’t too bad. Most of the time at least. Of course there will be downtimes. Days where he can’t even be bothered to stand up from whatever floor he ended up crashing into. But whenever he does, whenever he finds the will he stands up feeling much more resilient every single time.

He talks to the plants. He sometimes cracked jokes to the fruit bearing flora, whispered gossip to the flowers, sang songs to the golden grains in the fields. It was fun most of the time but it wasn’t free of somber moments. Times where he wished the plants would answer back. Whether it be with wisdom, or perhaps some scolding. Either way, Benni is sure he needed any.

A part of his usual routine was returning to the mountains. Taking a picnic under the thick canopies of the groves. Taking a dip on the selection of lakes and rivers. Camping near the cliffs, inside caves, under chasms. Everywhere, actually but never deeper into the mountains, never back to the waterfalls.

He had a weird aversion over it. Perhaps because other than his own mind, that place is one or perhaps the only link he knows to the real world. Maybe this aversion was his remaining cowardice over facing it.

But he knows he can’t run forever.

This world is perfect. It was dreamy. It was paradise. It was utopia. It was better than whatever heavens any religion could offer him. A world where the fruits are always sweet, the weather is always fair, the water is always cool and fresh. Where every time he wakes, he wakes up rejuvenated, washed clean of the troubles of yesterday.

And yet it reminds him that this may be a paradise but this is not life. This is not real. He desired life more than this. There are responsibilities he needed to attend to. Sins he needed to atone to. People that relied on him. He wants all of them back, Fips, Manu, his teammates. 

Mats. He wants him back most of all.

So for the final time, he spent an entire day fixing the hill. He cleaned the bamboo hut, rearranging the furniture and tucking all the covers in. He placed back the baskets he borrowed from his first hike making sure that it was neat and dry. He danced in the waltz inside of it, hearing the funny creaks of the bamboo floor for one final time.

He went to the garden, watered the plants and whispered good things to all of them, reciting his farewell. He went over that flower he tried to save on the first day. That purple bulbous flower whose petals reminded him of fluttering butterflies. By now he had given it company, an assortment of colors, planted around it. With that, Benni knows that it will no longer be alone. He walked through the golden wheat fields feeling the soft grains with his finger tips.

Finally, he hiked up to the waterfalls hidden in the mountains. One last look at his favorite places, making sure that the magnificent sights were embedded in his memories forever.

It feels odd to finally take up courage to face your fears. Everything looks so silly now that you are heading forward to it. He doesn’t know what lies ahead, and if he was being honest that uncertainty planted a little doubt within him but he’s sure he can manage. 

It will not be easy. This trip will not grant him a miracle. The time inside his mind will not give him all the answers. Even if so, like he said last time, what else is there to do? Move forward.

When he arrived, slowly he dipped his body into the water. The sound of water crashing onto rocks filled his ears as he let the slow current carry him. His heart beated faster, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He’s on his way, he thought. 

Slowly he detached from this world and let himself be lifted away back to real life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most emotion I wrote into a chapter and I think I did well on it, or perhaps over did it hahaha. But hey, there's always room for learning right? I think I just wanted to do justice with how Benni felt in here, the internal remorse, the desire to lash out that's why some needed time for me to get right.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. Tell me what you thought about the chapter. Was it good? Was the long wait worth it?
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Benni fully. I enjoyed just having him go feral, although if I am not sure if I had gone overboard. Of course Mats had every right to pry out answers from him specially that Benni is becoming this violent towards him.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and feedbacks are always infinitely appreciated :)


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